


Springtide

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Grelle and Sebastian are married, New Beginnings, Sebastian is on the bottom where he belongs, Sebastian is wearing the hooker boots of glory, because these two were made for each other, empowered top!Grelle, female pronouns for Grelle, post-transition Grelle, the OCs don't appear until the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: A night of passion proves to be a watershed moment in Sebastian's and Grelle's marriage.





	Springtide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmicLion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicLion/gifts).



_I want_

_To do with you what spring does with_

_the cherry trees_

—Pablo Neruda

_London, April 1960_

The demon reclined languorously on the bed, naked except for the sleek, high-heeled boots, black as pitch, that encased his supple legs. His ebon hair was in its customary state of roguishly attractive disarray, bangs falling rakishly across a face whose proportions were inhumanly perfect. Luxuriously thick, long lashes that would have been the envy of many a woman veiled a pair of enigmatic brown eyes. An observant viewer might have discerned the subtle, peculiar undertone of red lurking beneath the brown, a hint at his supernatural origins. His broad shoulders, lean waist, and muscular torso possessed the same vicious allure as a great cat reposing in the shadows before its next nocturnal hunt.

His eyelids were adorned with shimmering makeup, a smoky shade of twilight gray, and his gaze was framed by bold, sharp cat-eyes. A generous application of burgundy lipstick to his sensuous mouth completed the ensemble. This had been Grelle’s doing. Before beginning her own preparations for the evening, she had taken Sebastian by the hand and escorted him to her boudoir. ‘You wouldn’t mind a bit of decoration, would you, Bassy?” she had asked casually over her shoulder, manicured hands already busily sifting through her vast collection of beauty products. And of course he hadn’t minded; as a demon, Sebastian was a nebulous, labile creature whose essence could not possibly be encompassed by such limited concepts as “male” and “female.” Much like a refined noblewoman adorning herself with glittering rings and necklaces, Sebastian gladly wore all forms of beauty without distinction, and he had no qualms about how that beauty might be viewed through the grimy lenses of human perception. In the Victorian era, such an appearance would doubtless have outraged that pint-sized, asthmatic brat of an earl on the grounds that it was unbecoming of a Phantomhive servant. “Fu fu,” the demon chuckled mordantly, smirking at the thought of his former master’s scandalized visage. Sebastian Michaelis had not been a butler for quite some time, however, and the only person whose approbation he sought these days was his wife’s.

It was for precisely that reason that Sebastian positioned himself with the same meticulous attention to detail as an artist arranging his finest _tableau vivant_ , taking pains to avoid the slightest blot of imperfection. After all, proper reverence was a goddess’s due, and Sebastian intended to present Grelle with a splendid offering. Cupping his chin in his right hand, he gently stroked the crimson, silk bedsheets with his left, delighting in the hedonistic feel beneath his fingers as his mind turned hungrily to the alabaster skin of a certain reaper.

At that very instant, the door to the boudoir adjoining their bedroom swung open, and Grelle emerged from her inner sanctum to stand in the doorway. Sebastian drew in a sharp intake of breath. She was resplendent in her loveliness, which assailed him with the punishing force of a death scythe. The reaper’s sumptuous hair fell past her knees, contrasting wonderfully with her skin like wine spilled over white satin. For once, her trademark glasses were absent. This, coupled with bold, dramatic makeup, drew Sebastian’s attention first to her bewitching, phosphorescent eyes, which held him transfixed before the demon’s gaze finally travelled downwards. The sole articles of clothing she wore were a sheer top made of a sparkling red latticework, through which he could clearly see the swell of her breasts, a delightfully skimpy undergarment, a collection of bracelets that festooned her arms, and a pair of high heels. Her lithe, trim stomach was almost completely exposed (he noted that she had exchanged her standard navel piercing for a larger, more ostentatious one that glittered like a gemstone), as were her long, shapely legs.

Grelle looked even more ravishing than usual, and only considerable self-control prevented the demon from dashing forward to take her then and there. Sebastian swallowed, pausing a moment to regain some semblance of composure. He mustn’t allow the excitement that now seized him turn his head—at least, not yet. “Mrs. Sutcliff-Michaelis,” he remarked, with deceptive calm, “I hold most deities in the lowest esteem, but I am reminded yet again why you are the only goddess I worship.”

Grelle’s lips curved into a soft, sweet smile that was bestowed upon him like a benediction. She crossed the room with a tentative grace (stepping carefully due to her limited vision) before leaping in a swift, supple movement onto their bed. Her hand in the center Sebastian’s chest, she pushed him onto his back as the demon’s legs spread invitingly. “Then pay me homage, my love,” she commanded, tilting her head back imperiously. Sebastian, dazzled by the effulgence of her countenance, was reduced to hushed awe.

 

***

Grelle drank in the sight of the exquisite creature beneath her. His expression was equal parts bemused and enraptured, and consternation painted his face vermillion as she leaned in closer. Oh, good, he was _flustered_. There were few things Grelle loved better than seeing Sebastian blush. Even though his existence spanned millenia, he looked curiously young and vulnerable when embarrassed. Grelle could hardly contain a squeal of excitement. Yes, yes, _yes_. Normally, she was content to let Bassy have his way with her, but it never hurt to give him a reminder of a goddess’s power. Sebastian’s mouth opened, lips moving as he attempted to speak, but nothing emerged but a low, needy whine. “What’s the matter?” she laughed. “Cat got your tongue?” The demon’s left hand, trembling slightly, reached up towards her hair, fingers running through it with frenetic yearning. He uttered a few broken, half-articulated phrases in German, Latin, French, Hebrew. A giddy rush of power flooded Grelle’s veins. _She_ was the one whose mere presence could pluck the language out of Sebastian’s cunning mind, _she_ could beguile the personification of temptation itself. The demon turned an even darker shade of crimson as Grelle caressed his feverish cheeks. “You are so delectably, irresistibly _red_ , love,” she breathed, licking her lips in anticipation as the blood pooled between her legs. Then she bent down and took his mouth in hers, their tongues gliding over one another, lubricious and greedy. Grelle clutched his obsidian locks, savoring the undefinably wild, smoky tang of his scent, the diabolical heat emanating from his body. When they finally parted, she observed with a fierce satisfaction that her husband’s normally pristine mortal guise was faltering. His eyes had regained their true color, a luminous ruby red that made them glow like live coals, the pupils narrowed to reptilian slits. As Sebastian’s lips parted ever so slightly, Grelle could see the multiplicity of fangs (darling little things!) gleaming in the candlelight. The reaper wantonly ran her fingers along the inside of his mouth, the muscles of her thighs and lower belly tightening with lust as she felt the dagger-like prick of the fiend’s teeth. Sebastian’s hands trailed avariciously down her back, and Grelle hummed with shameless pleasure at the sweet, fiery pain that his razor-sharp claws left in their wake, certain to emblazon her skin with the red marks of his carnivorous affections. She noticed that his outline had grown strangely blurred, like a something seen for an instant out of the corner of one’s eye, faint tendrils of shadow dancing around the edges.

_Oh, Bassy, you’re slipping…I feel you trembling beneath me like a leaf in a maelstrom…even you cannot avoid succumbing to a lady’s charms._

“Your demon is showing,” she teased, tapping the end of his nose mischievously. “You’re making it…rather… _difficult_ …to concentrate, _rufina_ ,” Sebastian retorted, his true voice’s harsh, guttural baritone distorting the mellifluous British accent of his current incarnation.

“I wasn’t complaining, my dove-feathered raven,” she laughed. Other, more timorous women might have been unnerved by these manifestations of the terrifying apparition behind Sebastian’s flawless mask, but Grelle had never shied away from peril—quite the opposite. From the beginning, she had pursued Sebastian with the reckless abandon of a comet hurtling into the maw of a collapsar. Yet, instead of rending her to pieces or devouring her whole, the demon had taken Grelle in his arms, claiming the scarlet-haired goddess as his. And it was precisely that knowledge that made her blood run so very, very _hot_ when Sebastian delivered himself up to her, for it was a sacrifice freely given, the fearsome scourge of his power laid at Grelle’s feet out of love for his woman.

“Now come,” she ordered, guiding his hands to the voluptuous curve of her hips. “Show me due reverence, husband, and give me what is mine.”

“Glady, my deity,” he growled, hooking his fingers beneath the rim of her undergarment and slowly easing it down. His left hand slid between her thighs, finding and entering the orifice, pleasuring her with the unerring instincts of an accomplished violinist playing his most beloved instrument. Grelle tightened around him ravenously, and she let out a soft moan in spite of herself. “Don’t tarry, darling,” she panted. “It doesn’t do to keep a lady waiting. _Give me my due_.” A smug smile tugged at the corners of Sebastian’s mouth as he withdrew. Finally, once Grelle had adjusted her position, she took him into herself, crying out as a delectable heat washed over her body. She pressed delirious kisses to his cheeks, his throat, his clavicle, crooning the various and sundry names her demon had acquired during their years together.

“Scratch.”

“Bassy.”

“Cerberus.”

“Little Sebas.”

And then, sotto voce, breathed into the delicate curve of his ear, the name that described him best, a guarded secret shared only with her, “ _Naberius_.”

***

The sound of Grelle’s voice uttering his true name shook Sebastian’s soul like a mighty gale. He had given it to her long ago as an act of supreme trust. If the reaper so chose, she could use it to bind him inextricably to her will, consign him to the agony of a thousand deaths, or destroy him in a trice. But she only addressed him thus very rarely, and always in tones of deepest adoration.

From every quarter, Sebastian found himself engulfed by red. Red lips meandering along his exquisitely sensitive wrists and fingers, red tongue eagerly licking at the sweat on his brow, red hair tumbling about his head in fulsome waves, and the ineffable, inimitable red of her soul, reaching out to mingle with his in a bliss that transcended all language. Sebastian was shattered and forged anew within the fires of Grelle’s passion, losing himself only to find it again mirrored in Grelle’s gaze, his eyes shining like jewels within the depths of her own. In Hades, his fellows would have sneered to see one of hell’s gentry, their own Marquis Naberius, willingly submit to the attentions of a reaper. Yet Sebastian never felt so free as he did when locked in his wife’s embrace. The two of them were a world, conducting their own intimate, private rites, written on soul and skin in letters bright red, inscrutable black.

They continued thus long into the night, but even goddesses need their rest. So it was that Grelle eventually nestled against Sebastian’s chest and fell into a calm slumber, a faint smile on her lips as the demon purred in contentment.

Suddenly, Sebastian’s eyes widened. With his spiritual perception, he sensed presences in the room that had not been there a few moments ago. Could they be minor spirits, such as imps? Perhaps, but these souls didn’t possess an exclusively demonic aura. Truth be told, they also had a bit of that subtle “flavor” that was the hallmark of the reapers. Sebastian’s forehead furrowed in perplexity.

It was then that a mad, impossible idea flitted across his mind. “Absurd,” he muttered to the surrounding darkness, not daring to hope. But he had to know. Tenderly placing a hand against Grelle’s belly, he closed his eyes, focusing every modicum of attention on her spiritual energy…only now it wasn’t just hers. Though faint, two glimmering souls shone like nascent stars. They rode within the waters Grelle’s womb, sparked into existence by this night of passion.

Sebastian felt an overwhelming surge of—joy? Pride? No, those weren’t quite the words he was looking for. He found himself at a complete loss to describe the powerful, mysterious emotion stirring in his heart. Grelle would be ecstatic. After the advances of science gave her the body for which she had so desperately longed, Grelle had dreamed of starting a family (“I wasn’t joking when I said I’d bear your children, Bassy.”). However, conceiving a child with one of their own kind was a monumental task for reapers, and no one knew whether such a feat would be possible at all if a death god lay with a demon.

Sebastian hugged his sleeping wife tightly, a smile transfiguring his countenance into something almost angelic. Two babies…two kittens. “Our own little kittens,” he murmured into the soft curve of her neck, still dazed with astonishment.

It would be best to keep this secret close for a while. As a reaper, Grelle was safe from the grisly fate that often befell the hapless human mothers of demon’s children, but there was always a risk that she could lose the little ones to the caprice of misfortune. For better or worse, the earliest days of demon pregnancies could be a difficult business. Grelle’s devastation if her hopes were to be so brutally crushed…Sebastian wasn’t sure if he could bear it. Far better to wait until the kittens had grown a bit, and the situation was more stable. Sebastian’s purring resumed as he lightly touched his forehead to Grelle’s. Just as the ancient mysteries of spring transformed the withered earth, blessing it with flowers and the verdure of new life, so had their own barren bodies, formerly harbingers of violence and destruction, been made anew as forces of creation. They were in the midst of April, the month of opening, flowering; he supposed it was only fitting that new life now blossomed within Grelle. The demon cradled his deity, rejoicing at the advent of this unforeseen season that was destined to change their lives forever.

**Author's Note:**

> My ultimate hope is that this one-shot will be a chapter in a longer work (tentatively entitled "You Reap What You Sow") about Grelle's and Sebastian's relationship. In the meantime, it can be enjoyed as a standalone work.
> 
> Grelle's outfit was inspired in part by my good Tumblr mutual (and friend) cosmicli0n. Their artwork, in turn, was based on one of Lady Gaga's iconic outfits in "Bad Romance" (which might as well be Grelle's theme song).
> 
> I struggled quite a bit with the title, but I eventually settled on "Springtide" due to the connotations of birth, flowering, and positive change.
> 
> Pablo Neruda was a renowned Chilean poet famed for his love poems, many of which give me distinct Sebagrelle vibes.
> 
> I chose the month of April specifically because, according to some theories, it may be derived from the Latin word aperit (to open), given that April is a time of growth during which the flowers and trees begin to open. Others postulate that the month was named after Aphrodite (Aphros), goddess of love.
> 
> tableau vivant: lit. "living picture." A static scene with one or more actors carefully posed with props and scenery. They may be paintings or photographs but can also be live performances, as is the case here. ;)
> 
> rufina: Latin. Female given name or surname, meaning "red-haired"
> 
> "dove-feathered raven": from Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 2. 
> 
> Scratch: "Old Scratch" is a nickname for the devil. In my verse, Grelle bestowed this sobriquet on Sebastian because his claws tend to manifest in certain amorous situations. ;)
> 
> Cerberus: The three-headed dog who, according to Greek mythology, guards the gates of Hades to prevent the dead from leaving. Also another name for the Marquis Naberius (see below).
> 
> Naberius: According to some legends, the Marquis Naberius is a demon known for making men cunning in all arts, especially rhetoric, teaching the art of the gracious life, having a hoarse voice but presenting himself as eloquent and amiable, and restoring lost dignities and honors. Certain members of the Kuro fandom (myself included) hypothesize that Sebastian might actually be Naberius. Credit for all information goes to Tumblr blogger abybweisse, who has published excellent meta on this subject.


End file.
